Joules MM1
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2009 was an enjoyable exercise
and 2010 didnt
happen
hmmm 2011
and 2010 didnt
happenhmmm 2011
Prose and Poetry 2011
- Thread starter Joules MM1
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Joules MM1
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inter-office notes go on holiday
i crawled across the bitumen to the sound of Stan Getz, he sounded too happy, as always
......and there she was the love of my life, laying there sanguine and beautiful, a homage to true romance and everything in pastel shades, or, maybe i was tripping from all the dehydration, but, there, right there, inviting, she laid waiting for me to embrace and drink all her juices......
i got closer, so damn desparate,
my edges chaffed,
i felt brittle and incredibly empty
......but, as i get closer,
i had that empty feeling all over again,
that pit holwling, hollow moments of agony as
once again, in the dullness of my senses and the black of night where illumination feared to tread,
i see her for who she trully is.....
......nothing more than a pool of sesspit oil that some unfeeling ******* had left after spilling his oil sump.....probably a damned accountant, you cant trust to change a tyre let alone an oil filter.....
damn, again, desarate and gutted......where was i to go?
i'm sick and empty inside, out of all energy, no longer able to print
i mean, i'm a cartridge.........i gotta get me some ink.........
(c) joules 10.35am monday anzac day 25/04/11
i crawled across the bitumen to the sound of Stan Getz, he sounded too happy, as always
......and there she was the love of my life, laying there sanguine and beautiful, a homage to true romance and everything in pastel shades, or, maybe i was tripping from all the dehydration, but, there, right there, inviting, she laid waiting for me to embrace and drink all her juices......
i got closer, so damn desparate,
my edges chaffed,
i felt brittle and incredibly empty
......but, as i get closer,
i had that empty feeling all over again,
that pit holwling, hollow moments of agony as
once again, in the dullness of my senses and the black of night where illumination feared to tread,
i see her for who she trully is.....
......nothing more than a pool of sesspit oil that some unfeeling ******* had left after spilling his oil sump.....probably a damned accountant, you cant trust to change a tyre let alone an oil filter.....
damn, again, desarate and gutted......where was i to go?
i'm sick and empty inside, out of all energy, no longer able to print
i mean, i'm a cartridge.........i gotta get me some ink.........
(c) joules 10.35am monday anzac day 25/04/11
Joules MM1
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no subject
brambles twine and arc their covenant to solaris
a note pad laden with sparkled fingers
and luminescent friends wander,
through and beyond........
pseudonymous we thought,
we know where the heart lays, even so.....
yes, even so......
(c) julian 06/04/11 for 'starvinmarvin'
brambles twine and arc their covenant to solaris
a note pad laden with sparkled fingers
and luminescent friends wander,
through and beyond........
pseudonymous we thought,
we know where the heart lays, even so.....
yes, even so......
(c) julian 06/04/11 for 'starvinmarvin'
Joules MM1
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another one bytes
Around Paris theyre singing the protest song
lacking in space lacking any face
"épargnez-moi cet exercice absurde"
leaving, droves in html limousines
a shimmer of a crouching girl in a London shelter
grimacing at the krieg thunder
no matter how much things change, you said
theyve come again, i said
and today....today we sing another protection song
huddling in the cyber halls
bye bye bearded bird
(c) joules 04/05/11
Around Paris theyre singing the protest song
lacking in space lacking any face
"épargnez-moi cet exercice absurde"
leaving, droves in html limousines
a shimmer of a crouching girl in a London shelter
grimacing at the krieg thunder
no matter how much things change, you said
theyve come again, i said
and today....today we sing another protection song
huddling in the cyber halls
bye bye bearded bird
(c) joules 04/05/11
Mr. Charts
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More please !
Gaucho and Nelson
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More please !
choppa whirs medly
i had decided to take a trip to new york
land of silk and honey
pillocks and bunnies
promisary notes with the runnies
i heard RJ say to the whirring man
"you droppin the plan, from the man?"
"yeah, twelve strikes from your big ben,
we gots too many pumpanies, humpanies
all demanding pectoral monetising like
a seagull over New Hebrides"
RJ said; "oh, no! it's not another cooee 3 'n' pomo?"
whirly-man said; "like the tokyo '89 bust? hey!no domo!"
"no-no, we drop cash in a flash,
you like a flash-cash-re-hash?
cos people wanna vote too
even when the e-con's in the poo, doggy doo on my shoe
we let the 'blades' do the rest fer best effect
spread it around to get trillion-dollar interest
but, oh, do it wrong......
the man may need a double-dipped b-proof vest"
"cos when it comes to debt.....were having fun
we gotta go down to go up or take a dump
for a very long time
back to primordial slime
when things were simpler
before Nigerian single 'girls'
sent me emails
cos i was a lonely man
not like the man with the plan
i was without a clue-e
and he got the QE...........threeeeeee"
"Billy-boy Ben the new Teflon Don
freshly minted 200 year bonds
like the flower-pot men said;
we got no interest, no, we got interest at aaaaaall......."
i stride away from that egg beater with gusto
gotta get away, yeah, must do!
stay shtoom on my sandy island,
watch kookaburras crawing atop a pylon
and when the whirring is over
i'll throw another raw prawn to rover
and a promisary note, to the bloke, who's playing that @#$!ing ukelele ......again
and the chorus-line sings;
"so when youre rustling through your pink sheets
like youre snuggled in bed, with the fed, seeing red
you'll get a check-up from the neck up
cos its scaremonger season again
yes, like a fish mongers two week old delight
and you wont be sleeping tonight
nooooooo
you, you wont be sleeping tonight"
as i get on that big bird back to my island i whisper
thanks choppa,
we fly, in a pigs eye, the happy sky
while they Feddle the books and whistle our favourite tune:
"Buy-buy love, buy-buy happiness
shortings such a loan-liness
think we're gonna fry"
and you wont be sleeping tonight
no, you wont be sleeping tonight
(c) jct 09/06/11
obviously, nothing on today :cheesy:
Joules MM1
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did not, have not, still do
*
a single sheet of rain
tendon-stretched sunflower
on a pin-head, a speckle of time
an ocean growled with promise of ferrocious bond
that's how you said hello
that's how I said hello
this is the memory of hello
you said, off-guard, i caught
i meant to, i thought
in blemishes of truth we talked
there was no misunderstanding, we knew we misunderstood
on that pin-head, that day
cyber-fluxed moment we tripped over a notion
came those moments.....those stretches, wanton clenched iris
salacious letters.....just words
you left me with just words
you love me with words
i love you with words
that's how we have not said goodbye
*
(c) julian c-t rev. 16/06/11
Joules MM1
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Waiuku
she drove towards the Waiuku breakers
the salt flared her nose
she wondered about her mokopunas
that rolling churn she felt inside
the nostalgia one we all get
'they widened the roads since last i was here' she thought
'i see pipi shells still mark the road side better than the whitie paint job'
the fownlines are deeper now as she checks herself in the mirror
'time goes bloody quickly, eh.....a bit too quickly for my liking'
pulling into the cove she grabbed a notepad from the glovebox
the glovebox seemed to grate in protest and had that satisfying thud when being closed
she was deft at doing that multi-tasking thing, you know, driving and reaching
she is a woman of my age
bloody resplendant, if you ask me
but what would i know, eh?
flipping over the pad cover she stared at the first page
it seemed to question her:
well, chook, wotchya gunna write eh?
she puffed her cheeks and did that outloud sigh thing we do
"what can i say to my kids that they dont already know?"
pushing against the floor of the car and making the old leather creak
she took a quick deep breath and paused into her other self
she licked the tip of the pencil and thought 'that's a stupid thing to do, licking a pencil!'
wiping the tip of the pencil on her jeans she stared towards the cresting breakers
she lowered the side window to listen to the sound of coastal AotearoHa
in her other self she wrote:
the salt flared her nose
she wondered about her mokopunas
that rolling churn she felt inside
the nostalgia one we all get
'they widened the roads since last i was here' she thought
'i see pipi shells still mark the road side better than the whitie paint job'
the fownlines are deeper now as she checks herself in the mirror
'time goes bloody quickly, eh.....a bit too quickly for my liking'
pulling into the cove she grabbed a notepad from the glovebox
the glovebox seemed to grate in protest and had that satisfying thud when being closed
she was deft at doing that multi-tasking thing, you know, driving and reaching
she is a woman of my age
bloody resplendant, if you ask me
but what would i know, eh?
flipping over the pad cover she stared at the first page
it seemed to question her:
well, chook, wotchya gunna write eh?
she puffed her cheeks and did that outloud sigh thing we do
"what can i say to my kids that they dont already know?"
pushing against the floor of the car and making the old leather creak
she took a quick deep breath and paused into her other self
she licked the tip of the pencil and thought 'that's a stupid thing to do, licking a pencil!'
wiping the tip of the pencil on her jeans she stared towards the cresting breakers
she lowered the side window to listen to the sound of coastal AotearoHa
in her other self she wrote:
"Apellative Robes"
looking is the action, seeing is an interpretation
hearing is the action, listening is an interpretation
allowing riches to come is the action, allowing wealth to remain is life
hearing is the action, listening is an interpretation
allowing riches to come is the action, allowing wealth to remain is life
She stared at it and said 'yeah, that'll be good, they'll be proud of those words'
that uneasy feeling suddenly had come back
it was late afternoon
the ruddiness of the coastal sun began to ache in her
she started the car and hustled herself back onto the thin highway
'jeez, this old vauxhall is a slug'
upto thirty miles an hour, the whistels began, as they do in those cars
laying across in the passengers side that note-pad seemed uncomfortable to her
she reached over and deftly pulled the spiral sheet off the pad
she looked at it at arms length
she whispered 'what the **** did i just write?'
her words seemed to be in-tune with the howls around her
there's a small and greyed scrunched-up piece of paper
an attempt at poetry, rolling down the Waiuku highway
it's that thin highway
people see themselves on that road
i bet you see yourself on that bitumen too
just sometimes
that uneasy feeling suddenly had come back
it was late afternoon
the ruddiness of the coastal sun began to ache in her
she started the car and hustled herself back onto the thin highway
'jeez, this old vauxhall is a slug'
upto thirty miles an hour, the whistels began, as they do in those cars
laying across in the passengers side that note-pad seemed uncomfortable to her
she reached over and deftly pulled the spiral sheet off the pad
she looked at it at arms length
she whispered 'what the **** did i just write?'
her words seemed to be in-tune with the howls around her
there's a small and greyed scrunched-up piece of paper
an attempt at poetry, rolling down the Waiuku highway
it's that thin highway
people see themselves on that road
i bet you see yourself on that bitumen too
just sometimes
(c) joules mm1 24/06/11
Joules MM1
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Shankle Grove
pea loosened from the pod
spindle through the knuckles
a smirk of rye
and her, as in a reckoned
as I have reckoned heaven is
how lucky am I?
pungent raspberry and floss of trees
loose barking dogs laughing
loft of skirt as giddy as we are......
how lucky are we?
hewn blue stone ashened these hands
in the Shankle Grove we skipped
as elevens and twelves
even dispelling of cobwebs to come
how lucky
how lucky, again.......
pea loosened from the pod
spindle through the knuckles
a smirk of rye
and her, as in a reckoned
as I have reckoned heaven is
how lucky am I?
pungent raspberry and floss of trees
loose barking dogs laughing
loft of skirt as giddy as we are......
how lucky are we?
hewn blue stone ashened these hands
in the Shankle Grove we skipped
as elevens and twelves
even dispelling of cobwebs to come
how lucky
how lucky, again.......
(c) joules mm1 13/08/11
Joules MM1
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that so
yellow flower
that so
crimson child finger-tipping a last chocolate
is that so
upon tuesday
laughed at monday
that so
a pumpernickel soup drop mustard stained
a crocheted doily
that child giggled out the creaking rusted fly-screen
and that
so is that
that so
crimson child finger-tipping a last chocolate
is that so
upon tuesday
laughed at monday
that so
a pumpernickel soup drop mustard stained
a crocheted doily
that child giggled out the creaking rusted fly-screen
and that
so is that
(c) joules mm1 13/08/11
Pat494
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Now this is the Law of the market, the wizened old Greybeard spoke, And the Wolf who shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf who shall flout it go broke. For the ‘Madness of Crowds’ is a dictum, oft cited but rarely observed. And the Strength of the Herd is each member, but the Bane of the Member, the Herd.
Watch daily the Market evolving and look for the signals within, But in place of what’s called ‘Common Wisdom’, think rather ‘Original Sin’. The Jackal may follow the Tiger, but Cub, when Thy whiskers are grown, Remember the Wolf is a Hunter – and try to think thoughts of Thine own! When markets have gone parabolic, yet analysts’ targets ascend, Beware such blind extrapolation; the Trend is not always your Friend.
R.K. et al
Watch daily the Market evolving and look for the signals within, But in place of what’s called ‘Common Wisdom’, think rather ‘Original Sin’. The Jackal may follow the Tiger, but Cub, when Thy whiskers are grown, Remember the Wolf is a Hunter – and try to think thoughts of Thine own! When markets have gone parabolic, yet analysts’ targets ascend, Beware such blind extrapolation; the Trend is not always your Friend.
R.K. et al
